


Florist

by dnovep



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Anxiety, Barista Dan Howell, Biphobia, Denial, Florist Phil Lester, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Omega Dan Howell, Omega Phil, Panic Attacks, Trope Subversion
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-04
Updated: 2019-09-11
Packaged: 2019-10-03 23:41:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17293532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dnovep/pseuds/dnovep
Summary: Phil's a florist - he hates it.Disclaimer: I don’t own Starbucks, I’m not affiliated with Starbucks, I’m just using their business as a location in this entirely fictional work.





	1. intro

**Author's Note:**

> ⭐ this is just an introduction (& motivation for me to keep writing)!! future chapters will hopefully be a lot longer. ⭐
> 
> hi again! here's a fic i started months ago, inspired by the phanficchallenge tumblr's 'trope challenge' prompt. it's all planned out, i just need to WRITE! i tried to tag any triggers which might come up, but i might need to add more and/or change the rating as i upload. ok, hope you enjoy! ty for comments/kudos! ❤︎

To be honest, this isn’t where young Phil had pictured himself, aged 28 - an isolated, single omega, living in the tiny attic-flat above his flower shop, wishing he made enough money to adopt a cat or two and really complete the ‘eccentric single omega’ stereotype.

Phil sighed and rested his head on the till counter, then immediately recoiled and winced at the feeling of dust on his face. He briefly considered cleaning the shop, but - ugh. What would be the point, anyway? No one visited ‘Mary’s Flowers’. Using up his valuable energy to clean wouldn’t magically make customers appear. Phil mind spiralled off as he stood in the dusty room, gazing at nothing, frowning slightly. The white Autumn sun fought through the grimy shop-front window and highlighted the particles of dust swimming in the square of sunlight. Phil lost time thinking of debt, and bills, and his age. The weak sunlight was slowly heating the room, heavy-ing the smell of dirt and flowers. Phil was tired. His eyelids drooped behind his glasses. He was going to have to give up soon - declare bankruptcy, sell the shop, probably move back in with his parents.

The whole situation was just so unfair. He hadn’t even _wanted_ the bloody shop in the first place! Yeah, he’d liked working for Mary here, back when he was getting his Master’s, back when he was full of energy and the buzz of studying something he loved and living with friends he loved. Back then people had still used florists instead of flower delivering websites or supermarkets or wherever the hell people got their flowers nowadays. The store was beautiful - neon green with bursts of bright pink, the satisfying burnt-orange colour of clay pots, cradling the lilies, baby’s breaths, daisies, roses. The feeling of running his fingertips over the roses’ spikes. The feeling of soft soil running through his fingers. How learning the Latin names of plants felt like being a wizard, or an archaeologist, or discovering something mythical. Mary was sweet and always had a cup of tea waiting for Phil at the start of his shifts.

He hadn’t expected her to offer him the shop when she chose to retire. It had touched him. More importantly, he had been too bloody socially anxious to say, “actually, no thanks Mary, I’m going to be a video editor!”. He’d just stood there and blushed and wrung his hands together and stuttered out “thank you”’s and “are you sure?”’s, like an idiot. Like a fucking idiot. If he’d just had a bit of a backbone back then, he wouldn’t be stuck here now. In a room full of dying plants and grime.

Mary had loved this shop. Her life’s work, her greatest achievement. She must have trusted Phil so much. His eyes stung more - the bloody _dust_. 

Ugh.

He needed to get out of this room.


	2. Chapter 2

There was a Starbucks a few streets away and Phil hadn’t had a coffee since breakfast, so that was where he headed to. He knew it was a bit of a waste of money but frankly, what difference was one expensive coffee going to make when his entire business was in debt? As soon as he left the shop a wave of bitter October air washed over him, pinching at his nose and cheeks, but it was worth the cold for some fresh air and there was no way in Hell he was going back inside to get a coat. Dragging himself forward he watched his feet tread along the pavement, hands clenching as much as they could in his pockets. His head hurt, his neck hurt, his back hurt, his feet hurt.

5 minutes of a brisk walk through cold air later, he pushed open the glass door of Starbucks - immediately a wall of warm air hit him. Phil gratefully pulled his hands out of his pockets and rolled up the sleeves of his jumper as he joined the queue, looking up at the blackboard above the till out of habit despite knowing he would order what he always did. He paused. This cafe smelt bloody amazing - wafts of rich coffee, chocolate, and caramel swept over him every time he moved. Phil zoned out slightly, felt his shoulders untense as the queue shortened, felt a welcome sense of calm which seemed to hug him closer with every shuffle-step forward. The warmth of the room felt like a comforting embrace.

“Hi? Sorry, can I help you?”

Phil’s eyes blinked wide open (when had he shut them?) and he snapped back to reality, realizing that it was his turn to order. Immediately his face flushed, “Oh! Sorry, yeah, um - “ He, again, looked up at the blackboard. “Caramel macchiato, please. Thanks.”

“Sure, what size?”

Phil finally focused on the man behind the till. And paused.

He was beautiful in a way which was both incredibly pretty and incredibly handsome - his broad shoulders and tall height somehow complementing the softness of his face and the length of his eyelashes. Phil was sure he’d never seen this person working here before - he would’ve remembered that face. Freckles seemed to somehow appear and sparkle along his skin the longer Phil stared at him, everything except him seeming to fade into black around them. Phil watched as, almost in slow-motion, the man’s nose scrunched and his beautiful rosy-pink mouth opened to say -

“Mate, seriously. Not to be totally rude, but it’s lunch time at Starbucks.” Someone in the queue behind Phil sighed aggressively, as if to agree.

Phil, again, snapped back to reality: “Shit, sorry, what?”

The man laughed and Phil felt his stomach swoop. “Your macchiato mate, what size?”

“Oh, uh, large, thanks.” Phil winced - he would never be confident enough to ask for a ‘grande’ without feeling like an idiot for his pronunciation, but asking for a ‘large’ made him think everyone in the shop was judging him for being too dumb to say ‘grande’. The barista didn’t acknowledge the word change though, simply grabbing a ridged cardboard cup and a sharpie, then looking back up to Phil.

“Name?”

“Phil. Lester.”

“Phil Lester?” The man grinned as he wrote on the cup. “Usually we only need your first name, but,” he looked back up at Phil, still smiling, “good to know. That’s 3 pounds 30, Phil.”

Phil couldn’t help himself from grinning while he pulled the coins from his wallet. The way the barista said his name was so - __cute.__ Phil. Soft and careful, drifting off at the end. While the man put his money into the till, something overcame Phil. A spirit of confidence, or something. Adrenaline, probably.

“What’s yours? Your, uh, your name, I mean?” He was shaking slightly, hadn’t felt this nervous in a while.

The man behind the counter looked slightly confused and looked directly at Phil for a moment, who noticed redness starting to appear on the barista’s ears. He handed over Phil’s change and receipt while saying, “Dan.” Then he paused, looked at Phil again, like he was trying to figure something out. His face cleared up and he smiled at Phil, slow and warm.

For a moment Phil and Dan looked at each other, smiling. Then someone in the queue muttered “really?” in an exasperated tone and Phil suddenly felt very, very awkward. He looked down. Dan said, “your drink’ll be on the counter at the end, Phil.”

 

 

While he was waiting at the end counter, lazily watching Dan talk to other customers, Phil made a decision: he would come to this Starbucks more often. Wasting £3.30 on coffee a few times a week was worth it for the fresh air, for this amazing smelling room, for… self care?

As he walked back to Mary’s, sipping his coffee, Phil smiled around the cardboard. Maybe life wasn’t completely, utterly shit. He was proud of himself for talking to such an attractive human, and the macchiato tasted much better than usual. A good day, all in all.

 

 

* * *

 

 

As soon as Phil opened his eyes, he knew it was going to be a shit day. He squinted up at the cracked ceiling, slapped at his phone until the alarm went silent, then sighed, counted to three, and took a deep breath with his ears ringing. A new shipment of flowers would be arriving at 7 a.m., hence having to wake up at this ungodly hour. Shipments meant an early start which felt especially like torture after working late yesterday to throw all the dying old flowers into the compost bin in the tiny yard-garden behind the shop. Phil dreaded the upcoming awkward conversations with the grumpy delivery man (referred to as Grumpy Tony in Phil’s mind), then putting all the new flowers on display and pricing them, knowing every flower and every price label was a waste of money. It was all a waste of time. Ugh. He rubbed his eyes and pushed himself up against the headboard to put on his glasses and stare at the wall in front of him, waiting for his brain to wake up a bit. Steeling himself for the day’s annoyances.

Sitting there, listening to the occasional whale song of cars on the road outside, Phil decided he would reward himself once all the new stock was in place by going to see Dan. Over the past almost two weeks of visiting every other day he had stopped thinking of it as ‘Starbucks’ - instead it was just ‘where he went to see Dan and creepily watch him work while he waited for his drink’. It always seemed too busy for a proper conversation, as it was a Starbucks in the town centre, and Dan wasn’t always behind the counter when Phil got there, but it was worth it anyway for even just the chance to see him. He had thought about staying to drink his coffee in the cosy cafe, but he knew he’d just stare at Dan for the entire time and that was a level of creepy Phil was not going to be.

He didn’t know why his eyes always followed Dan’s movements, memorising how he spoke and moved and looked, whenever he was in the same room as the mesmerising man. Something about Dan was just so… __cool__. Phil wanted to be his friend, more than he had ever wanted to be friends with anyone before - and there had been a couple of people in his all-omega secondary school who he had really, really wanted to be friends with. He wanted to know everything about Dan, wanted to see him outside the cafe, wanted to have picnics with him, and play Mario Kart with him, and eat popcorn with him while they watched movies. He wanted to make Dan laugh at a funny joke - Phil was sure Dan would have the __coolest__  laugh. Just thinking about Dan’s smile made Phil smile.

Then it struck him how creepy he was being, smiling like an idiot thinking about a complete stranger, and the shit-day mood fell over him again. He forced himself out of bed, glaring at himself as he passed the mirror in his tiny bathroom on the way to the shower.

There was no way Dan would want to be friends with him. Phil was a fucking creep, a borderline stalker.

He scrubbed furiously at his skin under the hot water, knowing that however creepy he knew it made him, he would still be going to Starbucks later, hoping to see Dan. It was pathetic. And it wasn’t as if Phil didn’t have any friends, so he really had no excuse. Of course, his best mate from Uni had moved to London after getting a radio job, and his other friends had kind of drifted away. A couple of them had visited Phil once or twice, but they stopped coming after the dust and spilled soil downstairs started getting a bit too depressing to voluntarily be around. Phil didn’t blame them - the shop was a depressing mess. __He__  was a depressing mess.

It was really no wonder he was alone in this city. Just Phil and a shop full of sad, grimy flowers.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heyyy i'm still writing this, just v slowly lol sorry - surprise!!  
> pls do comment, it rly helps my motivation & confidence (which are almost the same thing with writing, for me??) , ty ❤️

By the time Phil walked into Starbucks he was exhausted. Grumpy Tony The Delivery Guy had been on top form, of course, muttering gruffly in response to Phil’s forced cheery ‘hello’, refusing to meet Phil’s eyes even once. Phil understood to an extent; some alphas, like Tony, still found working for an omega to be embarrassing or even insulting. It made the bimonthly flower delivery a fucking pain though, so if Tony could just get over it, Phil would much appreciate that - not that he’d ever be so confrontational as to say that. Phil dealt in passive aggressive comments, distance, and silence over shouting matches - so partially it was Phil’s fault that their time together always left him with a headache from clenching his teeth shut (not that he’d ever admit that, either).

On top of the fraught social awkwardness, the scratches on Phil’s fingers from throwing out old roses last night had multiplied from arranging the new roses. Someone with Phil’s poor hand-eye-coordination should definitely not be handling thorned flowers or scissors; Phil winced remembering how many times he had accidentally watered flowers with the mug of coffee in his right hand, not the small watering can in his left, over the past seven years (seven __years__ \- an excruciating thought). He accidentally made eye contact with one girl in a gaggle of young omega schoolgirls waiting for their post-school drinks, just as his face was scrunched up with the memories of his body’s (and life’s) failures. She quickly looked away, whispering something to her friends who all immediately turned to look at Phil, suspicious and protective. Phil sighed and stared at the cakes in the display in front of him, very determinedly not acknowledging the girls. God, he was a social mess. Who let him out of the house, honestly?

Thankfully, by the time Phil had ordered his drink (no Dan today, of course, because why would the universe give him any happiness at all on this miserable day) and was pouting at the end counter, waiting for it to be made, the girls had gone. His eyes hurt. He rubbed them under his glasses, took a deep breath - and there was a waft of the comforting chocolate, caramel, coffee smell. Phil hadn’t even noticed it was missing, but it made sense of how walking into the cafe hadn’t immediately made him feel better, like it usually did. He breathed in deeply through his nose as subtly as he could, felt his shoulders start to relax -

“Oh, Phil! Hi!”

Phil swung around in time to see Dan striding confidently up to him, the glass door falling shut behind him. The gust of cold wind from outside was blocked again and warmth fell over the room. Warmth bloomed on Phil’s cheeks, too, which must have happened due to the rapid temperature fluctuation in the room. Only logical reason.

Dan looked happy to see Phil, although the fading wrinkle between his eyebrows suggested that he had been frowning.

“Hey, Dan!” Phil cleared his throat, stuck his hands in his pockets, watched Dan walk right up to him and then stop. There must have been only a few feet between them - Phil heard his heartbeat in his ears when he noted how the cold air had turned the tip of Dan’s pretty nose pink. Ignored it, straightened his shoulders, said, “hi, how are you?”

“’M ok mate, yeah. Oh, your drink?”

Phil turned around and took his mug from the barista behind the counter, standing back a little as they chatted with Dan.

“Back already?” They laughed, while working on the next drink.

“Only went and left my coat, can you get it for me?”

The drink-maker sighed fondly and disappeared into a green door behind the counter which must’ve been an office or something, returning less than a minute later with a long black coat liberally covered in weirdly placed zips and toggles.

Dan collected it from them over the counter, “thanks mate, see you tomorrow?”

They nodded, replied “get out of here, some of us still have work to do”, and shooed Dan away.

Dan turned to Phil, who had been mostly just staring at how Dan’s mouth moved as he talked, and said, “hey, so, want to get a table?”

“Oh, yeah! With you?”

Dan laughed, but not unkindly, and said “yeah, Phil, with me.”

So they sat at a table together.

 

“You’re not getting a drink?”

“Nah, I’ve already had my free one for the day, and to be honest, I’ll literally scream if I have to touch one more Starbucks cup today.”

Phil laughed and looked down. He couldn’t stop smiling - him and Dan, sitting and chatting like real friends.

“Oh, hey, you’ve got a leaf in your hair.” Before Phil could lift his hand to check Dan was leaning over the table, plucking a tiny green leaf from Phil’s almost-quiff. “Huh.”

“Uh, I work in a flower shop.” Phil blurted out.

“Oh yeah? That’s so cool - what’s it called? Where is it?” Dan looked genuinely interested, letting the leaf fall from his long fingers to the floor, then propping his elbows on the little circular table (Phil grabbed his cup as it tilted), resting his head on his hands and watching Phil intently.

“Um, do you know ‘Mary’s Flowers’? It’s about 5 minutes away, down Micklegate. I actually, uh, I own it? I mean, it was Mary’s and now, it’s just me, just - me and the flowers.” Phil laughed, trailing to a stop. The way Dan nodded and watched him as he talked made him want to sit here and tell Dan everything, answer anything he asked.

“Well, I might visit sometime. I like flowers.” He smiled at Phil, slowly. Phil grinned back.

“That’d be awesome.”

Outside the church bells chimed 4 times and Dan sat back, checking the clock on the wall above the straws and cinnamon shakers. “Shit,” he muttered, then looked back at Phil. “I’ve actually gotta run but, um, it was really good talking to you properly Phil.” He stood up and pulled on his ridiculous coat.

“Yeah, me too! I’ll see you at the shop sometime?” Phil looked up at Dan awkwardly from his seat. He felt weirdly like a puppy watching his human walk away.

“For sure mate, I’ll see you soon either way, yeah?” It wasn’t a question, Dan seemed to have noticed the sudden extreme regularity of Phil’s Starbucks trips. Dan grinned cheekily as Phil stuttered a reply (“yeah - yes! Of course - um, I just really like coffee, I -”), then walked away.

Just as the glass door shut behind him Dan turned to look at Phil, who was still sat there, dazed, watching him, and winked.

After Dan had turned a corner and disappeared Phil sat back in the chair, sighed, and took a huge mouthful of coffee.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING! this chapter includes more serious internalised homophobia & denial, A PANIC ATTACK, and a little smut - the rating of this work has been changed to "Explicit". 
> 
> (i would say i'll try to update more regularly, but this is only for fun and although i've just quit my job i am going back to uni in a month. i will continue this story though, don't worry! it will get finished, it just might take a while. thank you for reading & sticking around! ❤️)

Phil thought about Dan for the rest of the day. While he walked home he thought about Dan’s smiles and laughs; while watering the flowers he thought about Dan’s long eyelashes when he blinked, the crinkle of the skin around his eyes when he laughed, his rosy cheeks, the little beauty marks on his face; while he locked up the shop for the night he thought about Dan’s dimples and wondered if his thighs had dimples too.

  
While he made himself stir fry for dinner he thought, unwillingly, about how strange it was that he thought about Dan so much. If Dan was more clearly an Alpha or Beta he might’ve even called this a crush - it would be a relief to finally have one, for the first time in his life. A real romantic crush, not just a friend crush. He’d had plenty of those. His throat felt tight, noodles slipped down his throat uncomfortably. Phil gulped down water and tried to focus on the design of the chipped mug he drank it from - it was a souvenir from one of his family trips to Florida, gaudy and bright.

  
While he slipped into bed that night Phil thought about the heat in his lower stomach. Thank God for his daily suppressants, this must’ve been when where he’d be starting his full heat without them. He considered, took his glasses off and placed them on the bedside table, then turned over onto his stomach and started to lazily, almost mechanically, grind into the mattress. Images of a warm body in bed with him spread the warmth further through his body. Phil imagined he was cuddled up with a partner, that they were grinding together. The duvet over his back could be their arms holding him close. He pictured hands clutching at his skin, someone moaning because of him, Phil clutched at the pillow under his head, someone under him, his hands could be clutching curly hair, his thrusts sped up, Dan’s flushed red cheeks as he dimple-smiled up at him -

  
And suddenly Phil couldn’t breath. He sat up, gasping, sweating, his heartbeat racing in his ears, then crying, sobbing, alone in the bed. He hurriedly grabbed his phone and glasses and scrolled through his contact list ‘til he found his mum’s number, then went very still for a moment, holding his breath. He exited out of the app and browsed through his Podcasts instead, snatching his earphones from the bedside with his other shaky hand. He was not going to think about it. He would not think about it.

  
As he laid back down, on his back this time, the voices in his ears became white noise and he began to breath more evenly. Dan might not be an Omega. He was tall. He had wide shoulders and big hands.

  
Phil focused on the cracks in the ceiling above him. No, now that he really thought about it there was no way Dan was an Omega. If he was, Phil wouldn’t fancy him. Simple biology. No need to panic, his body wouldn’t let him be attracted to another Omega - humans simply didn’t work like that. He took his glasses off again, closed his eyes, and tuned in to the comedy podcast surrounding him.

 

 

The next day Phil made a conscious effort to not go to Starbucks.

 

 

The day after that Dan appeared, as promised, at Mary’s Flowers.

  
Phil looked up at the sound of the bell chiming above the door as it opened and did a literal double-take. He hadn’t really thought Dan was serious, but there he was - in a fluffy black jumper that looked like it would be soft and cuddly to touch, and ripped jeans that hugged and displayed the curves of his thighs. Phil forced himself to look straight into Dan’s eyes to say ‘hi’.

  
“’Hi’ yourself. Wow, this place is so pretty.” Dan gazed around the shop, walking around a little to see various flowers up close.

  
Phil stayed behind the counter. He needed to be keep his distance, but also, his feet seemed to be attached to the floor with nerves. His hands twitched to fix his hair. “Thank you!” He winced at the volume of his own overly eager voice, tried to tone it down a little. Blushed. “I mean, thanks, yeah so… this is my shop. Hi.” He did a little wave around the room, then felt like an idiot for it.

Dan chuckled and stopped his wandering a few feet from the counter. “Hi. I love it.” The way he looked directly at Phil while he said that just made Phil’s blush worse.

“I didn’t think you’d actually come - come here, I mean.” Phil blurted.

“I said I would, didn’t I? Come on Phil, sell me some flowers.” Dan couldn’t seem to stop grinning at him.

Phil somehow managed to push away from the counter and stumbled a little as he walked over to Dan. “Yes! Of course! What kind of flowers did you want?”

“I guess whatever’ll look good in a vase? My therapist thinks I should have something natural and pretty to put next to my laptop - you know, connect me to the real world or something.”

Phil paused in his fidgety checking over of the plant next to them (a cramped looking parlour palm) and did a quick check of Dan’s expression instead. He didn’t seem to be self-conscious at all, talking about being in therapy, apart from a slight jut in his jaw that said ‘take it or leave it’.

Phil smiled at him and Dan’s body lost the tenseness it had held a moment ago. “How do you feel about white roses?”

 

 

As Phil wrapped up Dan’s roses (Phil had offered a discount, had even come up with fake reasons, but Dan had insisted on paying full price) Dan put his wallet away in his pocket, still giggling over a truly awful pun Phil had just told.

Phil passed the flowers over in their little paper blanket and his hands brushed Dan’s. Dan’s hands were soft - big, but very soft. Phil wondered if he moisturised, too. Nearly wondered if all of his skin was that soft and warm, but thankfully Dan spoke up before the thought could really take hold.

“Hey, so, this might be a bit soon - I don’t know - but my flatmates are having a Halloween party & I was wondering if maybe you’d want to come?” He avoided Phil’s eyes, smoothing over the string holding the flower paper together, “just, like, they’re cool people and it’d be nice to see you outside of our work places.” He laughed loudly.

“I’d love to.”

“ - yeah, cos I know it’s only a few days now, but - wait, what?”

“Yeah, I’d really like to go! I had vague plans, but I’m sure I can change them.” The ‘vague plans’ were to sit on Martyn’s sofa and make himself sick with horror movies, cheap sweets, and third-wheeling, but Dan didn’t need to know that.

“Oh! Oh, cool, yeah - d’you wanna give me your number and I’ll text you the deets?” Dan did small finger-guns (made even more awkward by how he still held his roses in one arm) then immediately glared at his own hands as if they had acted without him. Phil laughed and grabbed a pen and scrap of paper to scrawl down his number.

 

As Dan strode out onto the street with his flowers and the scrap of paper in hand, Phil rubbed his own cheeks. They hurt a little from all the smiling, but he couldn’t stop. A scent of coffee and chocolate still sat in the shop, mixing with the pollen.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> eyyy less than a month between uploads!! nice!!! haha ❤️

The party was louder and busier than Phil had thought it’d be. Dan’s flatmates, two ultra-cool women called Dodie and Hazel, had been perfectly lovely to Phil when Dan had introduced them, but had quickly flitted off to other groups of people - they seemed to have a lot of friends. Dan, pouring himself a drink from a bowl of something red and fruity into a black paper cup, mentioned that Dodie and Hazel threw a Halloween party every year. Apparently it had become a bit of an event amongst the local hipster/arty community - although this was his first year living with them he had known about their parties before, had even been to one or two. Somewhere in the room Phil could hear Hazel laughing at something someone had said. It seemed like half the party had worn fancy dress and half hadn’t, or were so low-key and ironic with their costumes that it looked like they hadn’t. Phil felt a bit awkward about his lack of costume but he knew he would’ve felt even more self-conscious if he had dressed up. Besides, Dan wasn’t wearing one either, just a stripy black-and-white jumper, his standard way-too-tight black jeans, and strange spiky black boots.

 

“Do you want some?” Dan asked, gesturing to the drink. “Or I can get you something else - beer? Cola?”

 

Phil looked around them at the crowded room full of loud, cool people. “Beer. Definitely beer.”

 

A couple more people stumbled into the flat, already giggly and a little drunk, causing Phil to instinctively move away from the door and, coincidentally, a little closer to Dan.

 

 

 

At some point Dodie/Hazel decided there were too many people in their little flat, so the party moved outside. Someone had said something about going to a club but it mostly seemed like everyone was just wandering around and shouting about it being cold? Phil felt warm from the alcohol swimming in his bloodstream (and maybe a little from Dan’s hand on his back, guiding him even though they weren’t really going anywhere), so he wasn’t too bothered by the Autumn evening chill. He was, however, very aware of how much noise their large group was making. Dan must’ve noticed how his shoulders tensed up every time a way-too-loud peal of laughter cut through the air, as he leaned in closer to Phil and said, “want to go somewhere quieter?”

 

Phil immediately felt his cheeks flush pink. Dan then seemed to notice the implication in what he said and also blushed (Phil watched with fascination as the red spread from a patch on his jaw, then his cheeks, then his whole face and neck), pulling his hand away from Phil’s back like he’d been burnt. He looked everywhere except for Phil’s face when he said “no! No, not like - I meant - oh no -” and buried his face in his sweater-pawed hands while Phil laughed.

 

“It’s okay,” Phil fought to get his laughter under control and put his hand on Dan’s arm, “I know you didn’t mean it like that.” He couldn’t help noticing that Dan’s jumper was even softer than it had looked.

 

Dan peeked his eyes out from under his hands and mumbled, “just, there’s a fountain not too far from here, if you wanna go sit?”

 

 

 

Phil had noticed Dan acting differently all evening, but he figured he’d only met him a few times when he wasn’t working, and maybe this unsteady balance between flustered-awkward-cautious, and sarcastic-confident-loud was how Dan usually was in social situations. What finally made it almost click was when they stopped into a McDonald’s on the way to the fountain and Dan insisted on paying for Phil’s drink and fries.

 

It was quite possible that Dan had intended for this to be a date.

 

Phil’s first thought was __‘no way’__ , his second was __‘YES!!!!’__ , and his third was more of a deliberate non-thought. He very carefully didn’t think about Dan’s designation.

 

 

 

The chill of the evening started to set in once they had been sat on the cold concrete of the fountain bench for a few minutes. When Phil shivered, Dan moved a little closer - “Is this okay? I’m a bit cold too.” It was difficult to imagine Dan feeling cold. He seemed to radiate warmth. They sat with their thighs pushed against each other and drank and ate and Phil asked Dan how work was going and Dan asked Phil about the shop and the entire time Phil couldn’t stop focusing on the squishy warm softness of Dan’s thigh pressed against him.

 

“One day I’d like to sell the shop, maybe. I don’t know, it feels like betraying Mary or something. Maybe I won’t.”

 

“What, and run a shop you don’t like until you die? Out of politeness?”

 

Phil huffed a laugh through his nose. “You severly underestimate how socially anxious I am Dan. Doesn’t matter anyway, the shop’ll have to close soon.”

 

Dan made a questioning sound around his straw.

 

Phil shrugged as if he didn’t care at all, “It’s leaking money mate. No one goes to flower shops anymore.”

 

Dan winced. “Shit. Sorry.”

 

“It’s cool. Like I said, it might actually be a relief once it’s done.” Phil sighed and slumped a little. He muttered darkly, half-serious, “if I never see a fucking flower again it’ll be too soon.” Then giggled when Dan gasped dramatically at his bad language.

 

“So what __would__  you sell, if you had the choice? Which you do, by the way. If you could sell anything, what would it be?”

 

“Video games.” Phil answered immediately, surprising himself at the confidence in his voice. “And board games. Nerd stuff.”

 

Dan grinned. “Oh my God, I would love that. I’d be there all the time.”

 

“You like games?”

 

“Hell yeah. I pretty much sat in my room and played Crash Bandicoot non-stop for months after I dropped out of Uni.”

 

Phil was suddenly torn between wanting to gush about Crash and asking about Dan’s University comment.

 

Thankfully Dan seemed to notice his hesitation and decided for him. “I was studying law. Law, Phil. Can you imagine me as a lawyer? I lasted nearly two years and had about seventy-billion breakdowns as a result.”

 

Phil wasn’t quite sure what to say. He’d never really heard anyone talk about mental health stuff as boldly as Dan did - not in real life, anyway. His family, lovely as they were, rarely even talked about feelings. Let alone the heavy ones. He ended up patting Dan’s hand awkwardly.

 

Dan turned his hand over and laced their fingers. “Ok?” Phil squeezed Dan’s hand gently, hoping he couldn’t feel how Phil was shaking.

 

When he looked up at him, Dan was blushing too. “It’s fine now, anyway. I’m loads better, and I’m in therapy, and, yeah… ” He trailed off.

 

There was a moment when they just kind of looked at each other. Phil felt his breath quicken. Everything kind of narrowed down to Dan’s face, Dan’s pretty eyes, the warmth of Dan’s hand under his own - Dan’s red lips -

 

He turned away, stared at their hands, then pulled his hand away and looked around them at the quiet street they were on. His heart raced in his chest. A few drunk women walked around the corner, laughing and leaning on each other. Phil frowned and his eyes welled up for a moment, but he didn’t cry.

 

He felt Dan move away a little.

 

It was really quiet for a moment, and then Dan seemed to collect himself and stood up to put their McDonald’s rubbish in a nearby bin. When he walked away a scent of coffee and chocolate hit Phil on a breeze, and he realised that it was Dan’s scent.

 

Gooey, melting chocolate; rich coffee; soft cookies fresh from the oven; and caramel. Warmth. Dan smelled like warmth.

 

Phil watched Dan stand by the bins for a moment, looking out at the dark around them, and looked at the curves of his waist and hips and thighs. Dan turned around and smiled very brightly at Phil, even though it didn’t reach his eyes, and Phil smiled brightly back, standing up and stuffing his shaky hands into his pockets.

 

Phil cleared his throat and said, “walk me back to my bus stop?”

 

Dan smile dropped for a moment, then reappeared. He stepped forward and Phil stayed where he was. Dan nodded.


End file.
